


A Trophy Sized Greeting

by HellsPurestDevil



Series: Project Mythicus [3]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Africa, Animals, Antelope, Barn, Cabin, Game Ranch, Gazelle - Freeform, House - Freeform, Oryx - Freeform, Other, Spirit - Freeform, Spring, Warthog, fence - Freeform, springbok, trophy hunting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 08:13:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16193600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HellsPurestDevil/pseuds/HellsPurestDevil
Summary: a Local mythic comes to say hi to the new Recruit as he and his partner travel to an old abandon game ranch to fix a broken fence.





	A Trophy Sized Greeting

It was a beautiful spring day. One of those rare days that hover between winter's cold grasp and summer's humid heat, neither hot nor cold...just perfect. It was the type of day where housewives opened up windows and doors to air out months of stale winter air and school children squirmed and fidgeted, eager to race from the confines of their educational cells and hit the playgrounds and skate parks. Birds sang merely from the still bare branches, while the very air itself smelled of fresh earth, new blossoms, and the promise of new life.

Thomas leaned back against the front hood of the pick-up truck he used for the day, breathing deeply of the fresh spring air, the locks of his curly dark hair playing across his forehead in the slight breeze. His left arm was settled comfortably across the top of the trucks side view mirror, his right hand loosely gripping the long neck of a bottle of beer. His long sleeved flannel shirt, which he had removed moments earlier, lay on the hood of the car beside him. His eyes were closed, head tilted slightly back as he relished the feel of the warm afternoon sun across his face and bare arms.

Toward the left side of the car, he could hear gentle sound of waves lapping against a rocky shore of the lake played on the soft breeze, and somewhere nearby the loud calls of a flock of geese echoed through the air. The afternoon sun played happily across the gentle ripples of the lake, causing the illusion that the water was covered in millions of tiny crystals, sparkling and shimmering with the lazy movements of the water. Occasionally the waters of the lake would be disturbed as a fish would burst briefly through the surface, The faint yet unmistakable scent of fish and wet vegetation permeated the air, distinct and yet not at all unpleasant.

Thomas lifted his beer to his lips and took a long draw before dropping the bottle loosely back down to his side. The combination of the beer and the warm afternoon sun was causing him to feel drowsy, and he had to resist the temptation to lay down across the sun-warmed hood of the Impala, his back to the windshield, and take a long nap. This place reminded him of his home down south where he grew up when he was little. And It had been a very long time since he had felt so relaxed, so peaceful, and he savored the moment, the quite the breeze, the...

" _Sonofabitch_!"

A sharp curse, followed by the sound of metal clanking against metal broke the tranquility, and caused him to glance down where he could just see the bottom half of a pair of legs peeking out from beneath the side of the truck. Another clank followed by another curse, and Thomas watched as booted feet twisted in the soft gravel, pushing the owner of the legs another inch beneath the truck as they struggled to position themselves better to finish whatever it was he was doing.

"Need help?" He asked halfheartedly, lifting his beer to his mouth once more and taking another small swig while his lips curled into a small smirk.

The movements under the car stilled at the question, and Thomas could almost picture the look of incredulity on the mans face. The snort was muffled, but Thomas could clearly hear the muttered reply-something about where they were gonna shove the wrench in their hand- from the man underneath the car, and it caused him to grin.

"I'm pretty sure wrenches don't go _there_ , Zachary."

Another gruffing grunt.

"You can't say I didn't offer," he replied with a shrug, looking out across the blue waters of the lake. The beautiful weather, combined with the peaceful atmosphere around the lake, provided a much needed respite from the never-ending monotony of the work he had to do. He welcomed even small breaks like this, and couldn't help but hope that it would take his companion a while to fix whatever was wrong with the truck.

He had only been working here a month, but he had never realized truly how big the property _surrounding_ the facility was until now. He had learned first hand big  the facility itself was, he still couldn't help but get lost from time to time. But this took the cake by a long shot, large fields of gold and green as far as the eye could see. The sweet natural smell of the lakes and small rivers. Closing his eyes once more, he relaxed and let his mind take him back to his time at College, the last time he could remember ever really feeling this calm and relaxed. He could clearly remember spending days just like this studying on a blanket spread out beneath the bell tower on campus, Martha tucked comfortably beside him.

The campus gardener had planted a variety of roses around the base of the bell tower, and He and Martha had always enjoyed the smell of the first spring blossoms. Life had been so simple then, his greatest worry that a teacher might not like his essay, or an all-nighter out with friends would negatively impact his scores on a test. He had been happy and content, the prospect of a hopeful and happy future spread out before him. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck

It was such a shock to believe that it had been only Three years since he wrote his last book. Since Martha. So much had changed in that brief time that it felt more as though it were a lifetime ago. Thomas had once allowed himself to believe that he would one day be able to return to the normal life he so desperately desired. Even with Martha gone, he had maintained hope that his life held more than what it had been given. That it held more than lonely nights by himself in a bed made for two. More than Madison staying up so late in the night with him because he couldn't sleep because his thoughts and mind were so boggled it was unreal. More than days when he refused to get up out of bed cause his body refused as well as his mind.

Thomas tilted his head to one side, rolling his neck slightly to ease muscles continually tense from too many hours on a chair in front of a desk writing for hours on end. He scrubbed a hand down across his face and tried to banish his depressing thoughts. It was far too beautiful a day to allow memories from the past and worries over the future drag him down. Madison had once told him they would take it one day at a time, and so far, that plan seemed to be working. Life might not been a bed of roses for either of them, but at least they were surviving.

He took another long pull from his beer, glancing down at the dusty boots poking out from beneath the car. He could hear occasional mutters and curses, combined with the clanking of tools against metal.

"How's it coming Zachary"

"Shut up"

Thomas huffed and took another swig, "Great talking with ya"

Almost a hour passed, when Thomas jumped a little when a " _That should do it_ " broke into his reverie. He watched as The man named Zachary began to wriggle his way out from under the car, dragging his tool box with him. His grey shirt was stained with dirt, oil, and sweat, and as he pulled his head from underneath the car, Thomas couldn't help but grin at the long, dark smudge that ran the length of the mans forehead. It was obvious Zachary had used the back of a dirty hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead, and he was probably completely unaware of what had been left behind.

"All set?" Thomas asked, kicking open the cooler at his feet and fishing out a cold beer to hand to his Partner for the day.

Zachary wiped his grimy hands on a shop towel before dropping the rag into his open tool box and taking the offered drink with a grateful nod. Popping the lid off with one thumb he raised the bottle and took several swallows. "Yep," he replied a moment later, lowering the drink to his side with a contented sigh. "Idler arm needed adjustment. Baby should run straighter than a ruler now."

A few minutes later, Zachary and Thomas were cruising down the path that lead down to their destination. The truck occasionally wobbling when it hit a small dip in the dirt road. The underbrush on either side of the road was very thick—bright sumac, blue-gray juniper, lots of bushes he couldn’t name. The profusion of them was still a wonder to his eyes, accustomed as they were to the fauna of New York and Virginia, where the roadside flora had nothing like this variety.

 _Probably imports_ , Thomas thought to himself.

On the left and Right, an ancient rock wall, crumbling with decay, meandered in and out of the overgrown brush, and on the right a small brook gurgled cheerily east. Every now and then small animals would move in the underbrush, and across where the brook ran; gurgling and chuckling, leaning over at spaced intervals were big, shady elms. Beyond the rock wall was a tangled, sweet-smelling hedge that had long ago run wild in the most amiable way.

And there at the end of the road, surrounded by overgrown hedges and shrubby lay the main house like a beautiful yet shabby looking mirage. The pickup rattled and sputtered as it turned into the yard and the two got out and walked to the house. It may had still been bright out, but it was dark enough in the cabin to need a flashlight, which Zachary produced seemingly out of nowhere.

The beams of the flashlight filtered through the grimy window, trailing across the walls and floors inside, as well as the furnishings covered in white sheets. The lingering dust floating to and fro slowly in the room seemed to shine in the yellow light, and it covered every surface in thick layers all across the room like snow. Nothing inside the larger-than-average cabin stirred at the invading beams, and Thomas took that as a good sign. If there was nothing inside, then that meant there would be nothing that would be able to harm him.

He heard the familiar jingle-jangle of keys, and watch as Zachary picked through the keys on a large key ring he had latched to his belt.

While Zachary picked keys, and cursed when he couldn't find the right one, Thomas turned and made his way through the knee-high timothy grass to a barn he had spotted on the drive over. As he walked grasshoppers by the dozens jumped wildly to and fro to get out of his way as he walked toward them.

The barn winked into existence after the second hill, standing alone in a grassy field. Thomas tread cautiously towards the building. The barn looked kinda eerie out here by itself, in the middle of friggin nowhere.

He approached the front of the barn, staring at the wooden structure. It was brown and dull and chipped, not a hopeless cause, but a real fixer-upper. Near the barn’s wide double doors he spotted two empty Pepsi cans and a crust of old sandwich, half pecked by the birds. Further down, he saw a pile of long wooden boards stacked neatly in a pyramid shape and some power tools on a lengthy table.

Giving the double doors a push, Thomas went inside—it was dark, hot, and alive with the softly whirring wings of the barn swallows. The smell of hay was sweet, but there were no animals in the stalls, not like he thought there would be, with them still fixing it up and all. Steps leading to the loft were nailed to one of the loft’s supporting beams. Greasy with sweat already, not even knowing why he was here, Thomas climbed up. In the center of the loft (he was walking slowly and keeping an eye out for rats), a more conventional flight of stairs went up to the cupola, and these stairs were splattered with drips of white paint.

The windows were dusty and festooned with decaying cobwebs which had no doubt been freshly spun when _Gerald Ford_ was President. One of these windows had been forced up, and when Thomas leaned out, he had a breathtaking view of the land for miles around. The land was an oil painting depicting high summer even in spring, all green and gold, wrapped in a still haze of afternoon with a cool breeze that pushed his hair back from his forehead. Suddenly, from down below Thomas heard the faint rustling of grass below and peaked out from his vantage point and looked down.

Zachary was busy pulling fencing from the back of the pickup truck, grunting and cursing when he got himself snagged on the wire.

 _Better go help him_ , the little voice in his head said and Thomas sighed. He went back down the stairs, going slowly and watching his footing. This was no time for a broken leg. At the bottom, something else caught his eye.

For a split second he didn't believe he saw it. Cause it moved so swiftly. But he swore he caught the glimpse of a light brown-nearly golden coat as it passed by the side of the barn door. Whatever it was had disappeared behind a thick weaving of branches and thorns, and something told him it was just a fox. Until he heard the distant crash as a smattering of small light-brown bodies made their way behind the barn.

Thomas was in shock, he couldn't believe it. He had heard from the others that they were around but he didn't believe them until now. They had told the story of the property, and of the now feral animals who roamed it, but to see them up close, with their long black backwards facing horns and white faces was something entirely different.

After all, wouldn't you be shocked to see Antelope in the middle of the countryside.

"Believe me, their novelty runs off _really quickly_ after the first three fences you have to fix...."

Thomas didn't turn at the voice, or at the sound of metal as it hit the ground followed by a huff.

"...They may be beautiful and graceful and _quiet_ , but when they get their horns stuck in a chain-link fence, _ho-ho_ , they'll liable to throw their whole body weight into freeing themselves and typically they end up taking the whole bloody panel with them."

Thomas had paid no mind to Zachary's words, instead he watched as the herd bounded hither and yon, traveling between their feeding grounds and the safety of their hidden sleeping places. Beyond the herd he could see, which he quickly identified as springbok cause a few of them were jumping no different from the grasshoppers he had scared before, Thomas squinted into the distance. He couldn't quite tell from their dim silhouette which of the now-feral African antelope followed the springbok herd. After being told about them beforehand, Thomas remembered how he had searched a few of the species names that were mentioned he couldn't quite recall on the internet, before he had completely thrown away the concept of the idea of these things living out here wild instead of in a zoo from his head.

The ones he saw now weren't any of the ones with the crazy big horns he was told about who lived on the property, the addax and oryx and Nyala he had seen on the internet. Maybe a gazelle? Or the bontebok that had given this property its name before the renaming? Whatever They were, they were too far to tell how large they were, just that there were half a dozen of them melting into the shadows of the nearby trees.

"The trophy rancher who owned this place, had abandoned them on the property years ago when he could no longer afford to pay the upkeep on the land. They'd been roaming freely here ever since."

"What happened to the rancher?"

"Company bought the property, last I heard he's spending his good fortune in New Mexico _quite_ happily."

Thomas shrugged and both he and Zachary turned back to the cabin.

After Zachary _finally_ jimmied the lock a little, the door swung solemnly open, and a cloud of dust greeted them with open arms. The Inside of the house was hot with heat and sticky with humidity. There were plaques with various species of animal heads and taxidermy pieces spread all about the dark, damp room, plus an indiscernible animal pelt lying across the ground as a dusty rug. There was a destroyed couch and a fireplace, plus a few tables holding various, miscellaneous items. Other than those few things, however, the front room was rather bare, despite its large size. It seemed to be the same way in the undisturbed kitchen, neat bedroom, and storage room.

It was a little confusing to Thomas, as to why the people that had lived here had lived in such a big house if they had no use for all the spare space. Come to think of it, that worked for anyone for that matter.

Zachary's flashlight beams caught the mounted animals' glassy eyes, and they practically seemed to glow, which was probably the creepiest thing they had seen from the place so far, and Thomas found himself moving away from the animals, choosing to look around the bedroom a second time for anything interesting.

The very dusty first floor had nothing of value, and was just only tall enough that he and his Six-foot lanky frame had to duck in certain doorways. There was a moldy mattress lying in one corner, but nothing else. The next room is another bedroom, with a single master bed and nothing else. Thomas checked under the bed too, just to see if there is anything interesting… there was not.

The other room was a bathroom, which was probably long dead. Thomas tried to turn on the shower, but it made a awful groaning noise and produced no water, but a dark brown sludge that vaguely even resembled water.

Yep. Long dead

"Pipes are a bust." he called from the top of the stairs "Guys are gonna have your work cut out for ya, trying to fix this place up"

"Leave that for the other crew" the voice from downstairs echoed back "let's just get this fence put up before they come, last thing we need in this place is wayward game getting in the way."

Thomas huffed, he turned off the shower and the groaning noise finally ceased. He made his way down the stairs just as Zachary had walked out the door, wiping dust from his hands. He left right along with him, opting to close the door behind him.

He did.

Then the door fell off its hinges with a loud, unceremonious _BANG_

Thomas cringed at the sound while Zachary spun around so fast Thomas was afraid he would twist his head off like a bottle top. When Zachary looked at both him and the door incredulously, Thomas sheepishly shrugged

"Leave it for the other crew?"  
______

Thomas sat out behind the old barn, watching the sun set behind the trees in a silence drowned out by the chirping of tireless cricket. He fidgeted a little and swatted at the mosquitoes that swarmed for one last meal before the sun finally melted into the inky black horizon. The antelope who had been grazing in the fields had returned after having their afternoon lunch, and where now making their way to another end of the field where Zachary said they would rest for the night

Thomas glanced down at the hand gripping his beer, noting the predictable scrapes and abrasions across his knuckles. He didn't think that when he took this odd job that handyman would be in the job description. But whatever he guessed.

Thomas heard splashing in the water. Zachary came back shortly, pant legs rolled to his knees. He was carrying a dripping six-pack of Narragansett beer in each hand.

Moments passed, as did the last vestiges of exhausted red sunlight. All faded to black and starlight, pinpricks that failed to illuminate the vast nothingness between them. The forest stilled, even the mosquitoes and the crickets.

Thomas looked back at Zachary, but Zachary was still sitting in the rocking chair he had taken from the Cabin. The man had a impressive beard brown with streaks of sand and white through it and he stroked it as he contemplated whatever he was contemplating. In the short time working with him, Thomas had deduced Zachary was one of those people who had never been one for words, preferring to let his actions speak for themselves.

A hour into their break, the pair heard a rustling sound. There was something else moving in the forest. Thomas could hear it, and from the way his shoulders tensed it seemed that Zachary had too.

"Sounds big"

"Probably an Oryx or one of the Giant Eland, I know the Eland are primarily nocturnal"

Then, out of nowhere came the harsh rattling of metal. It started off slow, stopping between intervals, before starting up again harsher and stronger. And with it came the soft bleats of a animal obviously not having a good time.

" _Dagnabbit_.." cried out Zachary " _Already_! We just fixed that. Little buggers always getting into trouble!"

After some back and forth on who would go to untangle the poor creature before it ripped down the new fencing, Thomas lost to a game of Rock-Paper-Scissors which he originally refused to do for he dubbed it childish, and soon found himself being handed Zachary's flashlight, and walking north to where they heard the rustling.

By the time he had gotten there, whatever was originally stuck in the fence had gotten itself out thankfully, sadly it had also preceded to rip half of the new wire along with it. On the fence was a gaping hole where the wire had been strained and pulled, leaving a tear about three feet wide. Still too small for any of the bigger antelope to get through, but Thomas also hoped that meant it was too small for the smaller ones as well.

With a exasperated sigh, Thomas grabbed at the Walkie-Talkie attached to his pants and went to tell Zachary. But when he went to radio him in, the Walkie-Talkie just turned static and Thomas found himself fiddling with the dial. Surely he wasn't that far away to loose signal.

Then quite suddenly, the Walkie-Talkie let out a ear piercing, high pitched shrill noise that sounded like a dog whistle turned up to the power of ten. It caused Thomas to drop it and cover his ears. The noise went on for a few moments, then Walkie-Talkie just stopped making noise all together. No static no shrill.

Completely dead.

With no communication, Thomas decided it was time to walk back before he lost his nerves. The land was eerily silent, no crickets, no night birds, not even the thumping sound of antelope hoofs and Thomas could barely feel a breeze and it was unnerving. When he went to bend down to pick up his Walkie-Talkie, he jumped slightly at a series of loud thuds coming up suddenl from behind him. It was loud and continuous, and Thomas suddenly worried about a stampede. But as he listened closely, trying to pinpoint its location, he soon found himself realizing it wasn't many foot-beats he heard.

It was one.

And it was heavy sounding.

And it was _fast_.

The cadence of its gait reminded Thomas of a boar, or like the large feral hogs he would see in Virginia, where they would run rampant across the countryside wild. Judging by its thudding footfalls, it was a _massive_ animal. And it was approaching. Fast. Thomas moved to jump to his feet, but he had lost footing and found himself with his back against the busted fence.

The creature seemed to cross the distance between the deep forest and the fence-line much faster than what Thomas would have thought and deemed possible. Before he expected it, the creature emerged from the shadows of the trees and took two strides into the clearing, it's tusks shining in the moonlight.

It wasn't a boar or even a large feral hog, but it was something like it. It looked like....a warthog, maybe? It smelt like what he believed a warthog would smell like. A dirty-sweet smell, like the smell land got after it rained. Or the smell of drying mud.

Except that he had checked the roster before he came out here, there were no warthog in this area. He had checked, he'd sworn he had checked. Warthog was not part of the list, only the antelope. No warthog, especially no warthog that he had ever seen looking like that.

His eyes were beginning to adjust to the light of the moon, enough to see that this warthog- this horse-sized warthog- was donning a skull-mask and a shock of blue hair not only down its neck but across its sides in a clear and knife-straight line.

Thomas did not have time to react or think about what he was seeing before a thunderous roar hit his ears, sending an unsettling vibration throughout his body. His first instinct was to run. He wanted to run but something kept him glued to the spot where he lay, his back towards the ruined part of the fence. As the Creature moved in closer, Thomas began to weight out his options. If he moved and was not quick enough to respond in time in case it charged? Those huge razor sharp tusks would drive into the Lanky Man's belly, that head would hit him with the force of a falling tree. It may had been a odd looking warthog, but a warthog was still a warthog, and with this bastard being the size of a horse, was he really willing to take the chance.

But once again he had no to time to think. His head perked in alarm as a loud sound echoed nearby, a crashing sound through the undergrowth, The creature had given up walking and began charging wildly, ferociously whipping it’s head around froth and foam flying all around. It came to a skidding roaring halt, squealing at him in anger. But fear kept Thomas glued even with the massive beast 4 yards away from him.

  
He could not move, and even if he could, he feared his chances of outrunning this beast if it ever found the need to charge very slim.

It wasn't until a hand lay on his shoulder that Thomas relaxed.

"Oh thank god Zachary," he sighed in relief "what do we do now."

The hand gave a squeeze on his shoulder

  
" _Don't move_ "

It didn't clicked at first. But when it did, Thomas raised his head slowly in realization. The voice wasn't right, it was too low, much to low to be Zachary's, and he found himself struggling to move again. But the hand on his shoulder gave him a reprimanding squeeze. And Thomas looked at the wrinkly-skinned hand on his shoulder then up the arm to the white haired face of its owner.

Where the hell did he come from. I didn't hear a car I didn't hear footsteps.

The old man in the black suit, gave Thomas a reassuring squeeze, before pulling Thomas to his feet. Thomas refused to admit it, but he really hoped no one realized his knees were quaking a bit. They nearly gave out when The old man gave the motion to walk towards the Squealing Swine, who was still a good distance away, grunting and snorting. When they came within five feet of the beast, Thomas and the Man stopped walking. His hand was still in Thomas's shoulder, but now one hand draped across his chest almost protectively.

The swine remained where it was, refusing to move any farther, stomping and grunting and snorting angrily-Thomas would soon note later that it's voice seemed to come and go with the breeze, growing in intensity whenever the wind picked up. But after a while, it seemed to actually calm down, and stood there staring at them with large yellow eyes.

Thomas turned to ask William what was happening, but William was looking out at the creature. They seem to contemplate each other for a moment, then William gave Thomas a short look, then turned to the warthog again and gave a slow nod. As if he was trying to convince more than agree with.

The warthog creature, who had long since stopped snorting angrily, Instead just stared at the pair. then surprisingly, it returned the solemn gesture. It looked at Thomas, staring at him with those yellow eyes, then seemed to nod at him. But Thomas was too scared to nod back as William had. Before he could gather his senses. The warthog sighed like it was tired. And before Thomas could ask what to do now, the warthog lowered its head and then faded away into the winds. The grasses that bent during its charge rose themselves up as if stretching from sleep and the wind lost that dirty-sweet smell. It was as if it wasn't even there.

They stood in silence for a few long moments Thomas trying to process what the hell just happened. Then he spoke first.

"What the _**hell**_!??" Thomas asked, unable to contain himself once the creature finally left. "What the hell was that?" William released his hands from Thomas shoulder, considering before he spoke. "A spirit. Sometimes a place is so important, so powerful in the collective consciousness that it becomes a spirit and takes the shape of a living being."

A spirit Thomas thought, "oh, you gotta be kidding me." William didn't look to be kidding. Thomas thought on that for a moment, trying to make rational sense of what he had just witnessed. "Yeah. Okay. But... a warthog? A giant warthog that looked like it was made by a surrealist painter?"

William smiled knowingly. "What collective consciousness do you think formed this spirit? The property was abandoned for nearly a decade before we got here. The spirit's form has no meaning to us, so we didn't bring it with us."

"But like you said, the place was abandoned. Maybe squatters or something?"

"In a way," said William. "But who would pick an African creature to embody the spirit of a place so close to their hearts? Yet far enough removed from said African creature that they probably had never seen one firsthand?"

Thomas though hard. Then it hit him

 _"The antelope called it_."

William smiled, "Correct, the antelope may have been born here, but their ancestors were imported from Africa. So it makes sense. Up until now no one realize or refused to believe they had the mental... well...the spiritual capacity to do something like that. Sadly, people seem to disregard the concept of "lower animals" having the mental capabilities to form their own spiritual capacity, about as much as they disregard lower animals abilities to feel things beside instinctive driven behaviors."

Thomas frowned again. "Why was he appearing to _us_ then? Like say I believe you, and that was a spirit, then it should be the _antelope's_ spirit creature? Why come to us"

"He knows My company are the new stewards of this land, I think. He wanted to see our faces, to see if we would be worthy protectors of this place. But in regards to you, my guess is he just wanted to come and greet the new recruit."

 _Some greeting_ "You got all that from a distant stare?" Thomas asked, incredulous.

William shrugged. "You don't need words to communicate, boy. Don't let them become a crutch. You should learn to listen."

They drifted back into silence, watching the forest and listening.

Then like it wanted its presence known, or for Williams point to be taken seriously, the Walkie-Talkie sudden roared back to life, and Thomas could hear Zachary's staticky voice from the other end, frantically asking what the hell was going on and why Thomas wasn't back yet.

Thomas looked at the discarded Walkie-Talkie for a few seconds, walked over to it, leaving William to watch the forest.

He picked it up, studied it in his hand, choosing his words carefully before pressing the talk button and

 

"Zachary, yeah it's me, got some bad news about ya fence"

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Location:  
> Annaxbok Estates 
> 
> Annaxbok Estatee is a sprawling mass of lightly-grazed grasslands and forests once used as an exotic trophy hunting ranch a relative amount of ways away from the main facility. Over One-Hundred years old, poor management led to many of the exotic ungulates escaping and many of the escapees and their offspring still remain hidden away in various corners of the property. Mythicus.Corp bought the now-abandoned property, exotic stock and all, and named it Annaxbok Estates in honor of some of the shy antelope that run wild to this day. 
> 
> Animals on property  
> +Nyala  
> +Giant Eland  
> +Gazelle  
> +Springbok  
> +Bontebok  
> +Gemsbok  
> +Addax  
> +Kudu
> 
> Mythics on Propety-  
> +African Spirit Animal in the form of a Warthog of incredible size,with unusual markings and large tusks.


End file.
